The young man stood on a hill, proudly surveying the vast forest that lay before him. He had spent all his inheritance and was sure it was an investment that would pay off. The land had traded hands often yet no one had made the move to clear it. He was lucky to have gotten such a deal. The acres of old growth before him were prime for harvesting, he was already in talks with multiple developers. His mind raced with how he could tame and urbanize the wild.
From the summit, he could peer far into the valley below. The strange movement drew his gaze. There was a clearing in the midst of the woods. In it, he spied movement. Though it was far away, he was sure it had to be human. A rage gripped him, this land was his and he would not stand for any trespassers.
“Hey, you! Get out!” His voice shattered the serene quiet as a group of blackbirds evacuated the nearby evergreens, squawking indignantly as they sought out new perches. The morning sun beat down and he squinted in the brightness. The person... could they be dancing? He would confront the squatter here and now. The last thing he needed was some sort of hippy whack-job slowing down the felling that would begin once the contracts were cleared.
Carefully trudging down the hill, he came to the forest’s edge. His body hesitated. Something felt odd, inexplicably unnerving. He reminded himself he was rarely out of the city. He preferred the civility of concrete roads to mud and grass after all. This was just the way it felt to be out in the open. He pulled out his pistol, released the clip, and loaded it again. It always made him feel braver. Finally, with a long delay, he moved onward to the darkness below the canopy.
He had walked much longer than he anticipated, and with no defined trail, he relied on his meager sense of direction to keep heading toward the clearing. This was an unwise decision. He soon found himself hopelessly lost, the dense foliage choking out the sun. He wanted to turn back but had no idea which way he was facing.
He began to notice the vegetation was odd. He was certainly no expert but he always had assumed trees in the forest looked alike. These were all different, a vast collection of incredibly different species. Even with the variety, there seemed to be an order to it, like some sort of strangely deliberate cultivation of colors and shapes.
Even more disturbing were the animals. In the city, the birds were so used to people you could practically scoop them up. But in the wild, shouldn’t they be more timid? More frightened of him? Instead, they watched from the canopy. The mice gawked from the underbrush, and even the insects seemed to just stare. A demoralizing feeling took hold as their unflinching presence damaged his delicate ego.
He tripped over a root. Tripped may have not been the right word; it felt like the root had reached up and grabbed his ankle. He fell hard, splashing his clothes in cold, wet mud. Looking up indignantly from his puddle, he was face to face with a fawn. Its large eyes stared into him as it dispassionately nibbled on a branch.
He filled his lungs and roared as loud as he could. The fawn wiggled its nose in annoyance, clearly unimpressed. He was ready to try again, and the deer yawned. Rage overtook the man as he unlocked the holster. His cold, dirty hands fumbled with the firearm. The young deer turned and bounded away, splashing mud into the human’s face. Clambering to his feet, he pursued it. He was determined to kill the creature and rip the respect he felt he deserved from its corpse.
The man was led deeper into the vast thicket as he chased the fawn. Charging through spiderwebs, branches tore his expensive shirt. A slimy dampness spread over his skin. He felt violated by the wilderness, but he would kill this damned deer.
Despite the raging pursuer, the animal remained in control. If it wished, it could have escaped, but instead slowed and allowed him to catch up. Whenever he tried to line up a shot, it leapt behind trees or darted under cover. But it never went so far as to end the chase. After an agonizing hunt, the deer leaped into a thick emerald wall of bushes.
The man followed and was unexpectedly blinded by the midday sun. Completely disoriented, the deer could have been right in front of him and he would have never known. Defeated, he stopped to catch his breath. He lifted a hand to his sweaty brow and shielded himself from the brightness.
Overwhelmed with fatigue, he wanted to vomit. Inhaling great gulps into his lungs, he tried to calm down. Slowly his eyes adjusted. He now realized where he was. He had reached the clearing.
An aroma of flowers filled his nostrils. Thousands of different smells combined into an almost medicinal vapor that relaxed his shoulders and settled his stomach. The rage he felt before dried up in a moment. This peaceful glade was much larger than he had guessed from the hill, easily the size of a city block. Towering at the center of the expanse was a great tree.
There were large, flat stones circled by mushrooms. Dozens were spaced evenly around the massive tree. Around those were flowers of all colors and shapes rising from the clover that blanketed the ground. It was dizzying to comprehend, both seeming like randomness conversely cultivated. He looked down at his body, seeing his ripped clothes stuck to his skin by sweat and muck. Shivering, he realized how cold he felt.
He perched on one of the stones, closed his eyes, and let the sun warm his skin. Breathing in the wonderful scent, a sublime vertigo crept through his mind. Despite the calm surroundings, he felt an unaccountable disquietude. Something in the back of his mind was telling him to run. Yet he felt grounded by an aroma that tickled his nose. It calmed his nerves and kept his feet planted.
A playful laughter from the dark undergrowth of the great tree startled him. His hand went for the gun on instinct and he squinted at the source. The tree was ancient and knotted, covered with thick moss and dark green vines. The massive roots spread in all directions, snaking in and out of the ground like serpents on a lake of sorrel.
There was a figure standing there in the shadows of the great branches. A trick of the light made it seem as though they were emerging from the trunk. He turned off the safety of his pistol and pointed it. The figure came into focus, it was a woman whose body was a similar color to the bark. “Aren’t we quite the mess?” Her voice was like a song, smoky and tantalizing.
He lowered the gun, mouth agape.
Her nude body was covered in strange tattoos. Brambles and plants weaved together and stretched over her skin in such vivid inks they seemed real. The design wrapped upward around her feet and grew over her entire person. Only the pale skin of her face that shined from between the climbing thorns remained bare. She was a work of art. Running her fingers through the snow-white hair that hung below her hips, she sauntered toward him. Her strange perfume of juniper and sweet blooms grew stronger as she approached.
She stretched upward as she stepped out of the shade, playfully spinning her body. Her long hair twirled into the air, allowing a brief glimpse of her ample backside. Her large eyes considered him, yet she seemed unimpressed. “Why are you here, little boy?”
She needed no clothes to create an air of eminence. He struggled to form words. Transfixed by the stranger, he stared at her full breasts in awe. A wild, snowy patch of curled hair adorned the area where her shapely, muscular thighs met. The tattoo that covered her… did it move? She stared through him. Her brown penetrating eyes were so dark they seemed almost black. They befuddled his mind. Finally, he managed to find a weak voice, “I’m not a boy.”
She seemed bemused. She began to circle the rock, looking him up and down. “What was that, boy?” Her toes peeked through the clover; she was barefoot yet unimpeded by whatever rocks or sticks lay below the flowers. “You spoke so softly I could not hear you.”
This must have been a dream, it couldn't be real. But maybe... maybe it was. Unsure of anything, he attempted to gather himself. More forcefully he repeated, “I’m not a boy!” Her alluring bouquet filled his nostrils and the confidence faded as quickly as it came.
She theatrically gasped and closed in on him. “Oh, I am sorry. I was deeply slumbering. I thought a boy had stumbled into this glade. I see standing before me a strapping man who conquered the forest to be here! So why have you come, oh great man?”
“I… I own this land.” He swallowed hard, feeling disgraceful in her presence. His filthy clothing made him feel exposed and out of place, as though he were the naked one.
Her eyes widened, and bewilderment took her voice. “You own this land? How does one own land? You are part of it. I am part of it. Can the petal own the flower?” Edging closer and closer, her lovely perfume intensified. His nose instinctively breathed her in, a lustful collection of pheromones that sent his body twitching in anxious longing. The world seemed to soften and a haze took his mind. His loins ached painfully, and he realized how obvious his desires were. His erection seemed to be reaching for her from his wet pants.